Ice, Ice Baby
by Superhubbverine
Summary: After crashing, Steve is sent through a portal created by a fail-safe, he finds himself in Asgard, one of the nine realms and he has no idea what to expect from such a land. Don't think finding yourself trapped in a mystical land filled with Norse gods are in the Good Soldier's Notebook.


A burst of light flashed, a dimensional rip tears open the otherwise clear skies. A plane skewers through the opening before crashing at high speeds, the force of gravity working made the aerial vehicle slide across what was once beautiful greenery. Rubble, dirt, rocks, and damaged grass pulled up as metal shovels into the earth. The vehicle slides and slides along the land until it digs nearly a quarter of itself into the ground. It stops, smoke rises from the ends and the engine hood of the plane, the stress of moving across dimensions, hitting icy waters only to hit heated lands was nearly too much. The side door is popped out, a well-built man around six-foot stumbles out with a pained groan. His patriotic military-issued suit of stars and stripes slashed in parts, soiled with blood, oil, burn marks and such. The tall structure blond swept his bangs back, hissing and panting as he limps to survey the wreckage. He tsks, mumbling about how it looks like he is going to miss that dance after all.

It took him a minute to fully adjust his baby blues to the bright suns, a hand covering his face to add shade. Observing the lands he noted that he was on unfamiliar grounds and surprised that he was no where near the great length and depths of water that his vehicle was diving into. He flinched, why was he in a plane, spiraling to crash? He remembered Peggy, Howard and-his eyes soften, he remembered his best friend falling to his doom and he could do nothing, but watch. Shaking his head with a sigh, running a hand through his locks again before hissing when it pass by a rather sore spot. He pulled his hand back to look at it, blood. Blood covered his hand and from his mental and physical condition he could only guess that perhaps his injury gave him the shortness in memory. He was thankful that the serum pumping through his veins had healed parts of his cuts, but it was far too slow for his liking. He needed help, but how and where would he go? Who would he speak to?

His eyes caught a glimpse of a large and vast city of gold. That's a start, he snorts. Steve went back inside the wreckage, gathering his flak jacket and wearing it, equipping his shield on his back. He grabbed a medium-sized backpack and put whatever he deem was necessary as it looks like it might be a long hike. He slung the pack onto a shoulder before trudging onto the path towards the city, hoping to find the help he needs and a way out of here. The man was perhaps trailing for a good hour maybe two tops, he thought the place was absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful meadows, a rich and dark forest scaling along the borders of the land, the city he was getting close was nothing he had ever seen before. Heck, he might as thought he died and went to Heaven. Large pearly gates, ancient and divine building structure everywhere with golden decorations. Yeah, he was probably dead and in Heaven.

As he trek on, entering the city, people of all sizes, toned or fair, all lovely-looking, and the cloth they wore. He blinked, they reminded him of the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians and heck, what the gods of Olympus probably wore. Even some with armor like the Vikings or Knights he read about as a kid. He felt embarrassed, almost meek in nature when all eyes fell upon him and his patriotic outfit. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with a rising blush flushing his skin. He felt stupid in a way. The Captain was startled when he was suddenly pushed around and a group of large, gruff armor-covered men approached him. A scarred hand grabbed at his pack in violent manner and his instincts kicked in, literally. He shoved the man back with a hard kick to his chest, making him stumbled into his pals.

"Look, I didn't come here for trouble. I'm just looking for some help."

He grumbled when his words fell on deaf ears, the other men rallying and wanting to apparently 'Bash his skull in', too busy in wanting revenge for the bruised ego. At least that is what he figured. He fought flawlessly, regardless of his wounds, adrenaline and serum working together as he bash one man's skull with his shield using the momentum to spin a kick to the other and sweep the leg under another. Grappling a punch thrown at his face before kneeing the owner, throwing over his shoulder and tossing his shield out only to catch it and reattach it to his back when the rest of the men were struck to the ground. They groaned and whimpered. Steve sighed tiredly, his vision blurring a bit. He over used his already worn out body.

"Hopefully, that'll teach you goons a lesson."

He stumbled a slight, shaking his head to clear his vision only to make it worsen. He hissed, holding his head when a ringing sensation hammered away at his skull. He really needed to take care of himself. 'Course, he could not think long for soon after he was out cold. His body caught from hitting the ground by a young lithe man, taller than he, wearing royal armor of gold and emerald. The raven-haired figure tsked, chuckling into a smirk before carrying the man and his equipment with ease. The unknown man takes him into the castle, walking through secret chambers and pathways until he reached his own establishment inside a far-off wing in the massive building. He placed the man on spare towels on top the bed that he gathered as he made his way inside his room. He shut the door, turning back to look at the blond. The Captain could of sworn he heard a chuckle and a whisper of "Welcome home, Pet." He was confused, but too tired to wake. He slept on, letting fate decide his path.


End file.
